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Matthew Good lyrics

When Hollywood Runs out of Indians

When Hollywood runs out of Indians
[??] and hair turns to glass
Hollywood runs out of Indians
The dimly lit bulb bursts and the first are come for by the last

Something in the way you move
Makes me catch a cold
Something in the way you're -- too cool for school
Slides up and down my pole
Something in the way you look
Only reflects half a whole

When Hollywood runs out of Indians
Only the Indians will know

Some edits by: Prometheon